Growing Up
by emmer6
Summary: Story about a girl tribute for who the hunger games was a part of maturing.
1. Chosen

"I'll need more nim berries Paris."

Said my mother, a midwife. Bianca had been on the bed since 5:00 that morning with her baby on the way. I could tell the contractions were getting progressively worse as the groaning was getting progressively louder.

"Be back in 15 minutes and check the snares while you're out there." She instructed. I gave her an okay, grabbed my rucksack and stepped out into the dreary place they call outside. I truly admired my mother. How she could always take control of a situation. Even when the birthing mother is thrashing and crying and groaning and whimpering mine is calm and controlled.

It's funny how the sun never shines on the reaping days. I know I'm always too scared to breathe until it's certain no one I recognize has been chosen. Right. 15 minutes. Nim berries. Rabbit snares. The forest of district 7 was pretty empty today. I remember I set the snares in the northwest forest, the one due for clear cutting next week. If you think about it, might as well hunt all the animals before they're driven out of their dens anyway. The trees stood tall and strong, ready for harvesting. As usual, the snares were set on the same trees, all but one of them untouched. The last one had a rabbit dangling helplessly by one hind leg. I flipped open my pocket knife and gave a quick thanks to rabbit for being my dinner tonight. Luckily we won't be going to bed hungry because I needn't sell the rabbit. We'll have the profit from mums work today. I slit its throat and left it to bleed so I could look for nim berries. The wind picked up and I swore as it cut into my face bitterly. It's been 10 minutes. Better hurry.

Finding the berries wasn't really a problem, them being so common in district 7, as long as you knew where to look. Nim berries are black and firm, and grow in bushes. They were mutated several decades ago for medical purposes. Nim berries are remarkable pain killers – if prepared correctly. While the skin has numbing powers the inside juices can cause hallucination, vision problems, dizziness or in serious cases, death. My mum showed me how to extract the juices and clean the skin properly recently. I will probably be a midwife too when I grow up.

"Hey Paris. Wuzzup?" said Marleen as she passed by.

"Hey Marly." I replied. I was surprised Marly was in such a good mood. Well, better than before. Two months ago, her twin brother, my best friend, was carried off by peacekeepers after starting a riot at the town square. Jackson was my partner in crime. We used to hunt in the restricted forests. Always so headstrong, with a big voice and determination to make a difference in the world. To be a leader. To be remembered. We were supposed to do it together. But Marly was hit by a loose shingle when it fell off a roof and bled badly. By the time I reached the town square it was too late. All I saw was Jackson being dragged away and rebellious crowd being fired at by peacekeepers.

"Sorry I gotta go. Bianca's probably howling."

I walked in the door to be greeted by a very angry Bianca.

"Where have you beeeeen!!?!?!? The pain's unbearable!!!!!How could you be so selfish as to keep me waiting!!!!!!

"Thanks Paris." Sighed mum, obviously weary after 6 hours with Bianca.

Bianca named the baby boy Pierre, which apparently means pebble. It made me think of what my own name meant. Dad tells me Paris used to be the "city of love" before it was destroyed by an atom bomb centuries ago. He also said Paris used to be a boy's name. This I didn't believe. Who ever heard of a boy named Paris? Ridiculous.

Since dinner is caught and our daily profit is made, I have the afternoon to myself. But of course there's the reaping at 3:00. I keep telling myself to relax. I'm only 14. And besides, district 7 is bigger than many other ones, with more children thus lessening my chances of being chosen. Even then I still have bad anxiety, so I refer to my best stress relieving pastime.

The sound of the river was quiet. It didn't take long to find my usual target rock. It was big and had a sharp edging across the side that faced the running water. My favourite childhood game commenced. The idea was to hit the sharp boulder with a river shore stone hard enough for it to break. The stone of course, not the boulder. You'd need a pretty good arm for that. Not to brag, but I hit the boulder 99% of the time and broke the stone 50%. Just something random I feel special about. But while searching for a well sized rock I came across one dark grey stone that was incredibly smooth from years of water erosion. It was almost perfectly circular, so I shoved it in my pocket for safe keeping. It could be my lucky stone or something.

"Why don't you wear this one? It used to be my reaping dress when I was your age." Explained mum.

"Perfect..." I should have had a better reaction. I loved it. It was faded green that matched nicely with my faded red hair. There was a bow at the back and a lovely forest green flower print all over it. Two pockets were placed around where my thighs were. While mum found a dress for herself, I reached for a piece of charred wood from the fireplace and scratched a little happy face on my lucky stone.

"Welcome to District 7's 60th annual reaping!" announced Flora Goodwell. The mayor stepped up to the podium to give the speech we all had practically memorized. He gave us the usual lecture on why 23 children get slaughtered every year as punishment for what happened more than half a century ago. Honestly! Our great grandparents got a little upset, stood up for themselves and it got out of hand. Get over it! You'd think after 60 years people would be capable of forgiving and forgetting.

"Thank you Mayor Sanders! Well now, here we go! Ladies first!" Flora danced over to the ladies bowl quivering with excitement to find out who's going to die this year. She dug her hand into the bowl. Every one drew a collective breath and held it. Flora smoothed out the paper. I hear a baby cry. (Probably Pierre)

"Paris de Clair"

Huh? Who's Paris de Clair? I'm only fourteen so it's not me. The boy standing next to me gives a very unsympathetic push into the isle. Luckily I'm able to stay on my feet. Barely. I kind of waddle up to the stage. But why? I'm fourteen so the odds are in my favour. I can't have been chosen. Wait, did I accidentally volunteer? Then why did that guy push me? I catch Marly's eye. She's a white and green hue. So am I probably. Ohhh..... dammit my name _is_ Paris de Clair. That...sucks. I shook uncontrollably but managed to hold off the tears.

"Congratulations!!!" squealed Flora. "Now for a gentleman!" She hopped over to the men's bowl and grabbed the slip on top.

"Marcus Black"

The boy who pushed me fainted. Karma much.


	2. Pain Train

**I hope you were paying attention to the first chapter cuz there's some important stuff in it. Anyway Paris is just returning home after being reaped for the 60****th**** annual hunger games. Here we go!**

The moment I walked in the door and gained the privacy I had craved for half an hour, I broke out into a frenzy of tears, frustration and panic. My mum cradled me in her arms, the tears falling steadily as she tried to accept she may never see her baby girl again. We grieved for what seemed like hours, until I was empty. Even then mum made me take medication so I would stop hyperventilating. Since hopefully I hadn't any tears left in me, I could now face the cameras with more confidence. Time was wasting. I should say my goodbyes to Marly.

"Just don't go down without a fight Paris" Marly sobbed. "Don't be just another tribute to be disposed of in the blood bath."

"I want you to win, but no matter who is in there with you or what they've done, respect your opponents. They're all just trying to go home."Mum spoke, then hesitated and whispered "Your father would have told you to look before you leap. That was his motto."

These were all powerful words. It gave me unexpected strength knowing I'd heard exactly what I needed to hear. After a final goodbye kiss, I stepped to the locomotive and they carried me away.

I refused to speak to Marcus. To me he was only the boy who pushed me. To him I was only the girl who didn't move quickly enough. The only thing I knew about him and he knew about me was our names really. This wasn't a very good strategy. The fight doesn't start when they drop me in the arena. It starts here and now. Getting to know my opponents allows better planning.

Exploring the train grew boring shortly after I started. It was the usual bedroom. Bathroom. Dining room. Etc.

"You two have been awfully quiet..." squeaked Flora at dinner. Neither I nor Marcus replied. "Well now, it's time for you to meet your trainer! Isn't that exiting?"I took a bite from the apple I was holding and chewed slowly. "Okay...um...well...I guess you can come in now Chawny..." she called. A door opened to reveal a middle aged woman with an expressionless face.

"This is District 7? They don't look like much. Prob'ly die in the blood bath. 'Specially the ginger. "Said Chawny while sipping from a wine glass. I stopped chewing. This I would not tolerate. Red hair was what made my mother and I celebrities. It was predicted to be extinct years ago. Without thinking, I threw my apple and smashed the wine glass to pieces right in front of Chawny's face. Then sat back, crossed my arms and continued chewing. Flora reacted as if I'd thrown a knife at my trainer. Chawny smiled.

"That was yer first test. If yer opponent gives you crap, you send it back to show yer not afraid. You know red head, you can just use words. Don't have to physically throw something. You pass (she pointed at me) and you fail. (She pointed at Marcus)"

Several minutes passed with little conversation until Chawny told us to grab a paper, pen and come and watch the other reapings. I memorized most of the tributes by name, appearance and personality.

_District 1 girl, Jelena, looks vicious. D1 boy, Treck, volunteered confident he'll win. D2 girl, Dandra, sly. D2 boy, Xander, HUGE. D3, not too much trouble. D4 girl, 12 years old. D4 boy, Dez, volunteered for his brother. D5 not a problem. D6 girl a lunatic, but don't underestimate. D6 boy looks weak._

I see a very pale faced Paris get PUSHED into the isle and a Marcus faint. (tsk tsk)

_D8 girl is 18 and expressionless. D8 boy looked a lot like Marcus minus the fainting.D9 not a problem.D10 boy, Parker, big and dangerous. D11 not a problem. D12 boy not a problem._

The District 12 girl was tall and fair, with a (not to be rude) large stomach. Something about her reminded me of mum...maybe her control of emotions. She was 18 and her name was Aida.

"What do you think's going to be in the arena this year?" I said to break the silence after the last reaping finished.

"Likely will be many trees. Trees are firewood, shelter and home to animals." Chawny assumed. "They're not gonna make the same mistakes as last year. Throwing 24 kids in an arena with absolutely no water." Her predictions sounded accurate. I remember last year's desert theme. Watching kids dehydrate for a week was dreadfully wasteful. Chawny's words reassured me. Trees were my element. The river was my childhood.

I was stuffed from dinner and now weary. On my bed I found a pair of unnecessarily frilly PJ's, a toothbrush, a hairbrush and clothes for the next day. While brushing my teeth it dawned on me that practically all of the tributes this year were older, bigger and more mature than I. My last hope was that they were gullible. The careers certainly weren't. It was going to take everything I've got to survive a week.

**Sorry, not the longest or most exiting chapter. I have to introduce the characters before killing them off. Hopefully we'll be in the arena by the fifth chapter.**


	3. Jackson

I was unimpressed by the hotel. Of course, under different circumstances I would be capable of admiring the cotton candy pink walls and their portraits of presidents. But right now the only thing on my mind was the training tomorrow. I made my decision was to watch the other tributes like a hawk, taking in their physical and mental strategies. As for my own training my knot and snare skills were good enough and my knowledge of plants was impressive after years of gathering and healing. This was all planned in one long discussion with Chawny and Marcus. Or realistically, one long discussion with Chawny while Marcus sat and watched. He hadn't said a single word since the day he was reaped. Idiot. The fight doesn't start when we're dropped into the arena. It's ongoing now. Oh well. I guess he doesn't hurt me by refusing to participate in strategy talk. Our opinions of the other tributes continued to dinner.

"So what do you think o' that girl from District 6?" Chawny asked. To my utter surprise, it was Marcus who spoke.

"Lulu? She scares me. Someone ought to tighten up that loose screw in her noggin. I saw her playing with her toes and singing a song about pigs..." He raised his eyebrows and made circular motions with his finger around his temple. He also sang us a sample of Lulu's piggy song. Marcus spoke my thoughts word for word. That girl was _dangerously _crazy.

"That new avox is taking an awfully long time with our food." Flora squawked.

"What about that Dandra girl? Not to be messed with." Chawny added.

"If I weren't _in _the games I'd bet on her myself." I said grimly.

"Xander?"

"All brawn. No brain."

"Parker?"

"No different...."

"Ciro?"

"Hadn't thought about him. He has a balance of strength and smarts. Hey! Wait! Why are there so many dangerous boys?"

"Evolution."

"Evolution is stupid."

"Sigh. Jelena?"

"Violent. Leash her, throw her into a rage and she'd gnaw her own arm off to get at you."

"Dez?"

"Brave. Replaced his 13 year old brother."

"I like your willingness to live Paris. It will be your best friend in the arena."

The door opened a crack.

"Oh goodie our food's here!" Flora chirped. The door swung open and my eyes met with the avox. I gasped and struggled to exhale the breath I just sucked. Instead I just choked on it. I wasn't even in the arena and I had already been impaled by a reality. Jackson dropped our dinner on the floor with a loud clang and ran out the entrance from which he came. Good thing too. I was nowhere near ready to face him either.

"Ah! Look at the mess he made!" Flora said distraught.

"I...have to...change..." I squeaked and dashed all the way to my bedroom. How _could_ they?! Steal my best friend and reunite us as a tribute and an avox. Was this all part of the punishment? To rob him of his speech and present him to a tribute he had known since his birth? Was this all a sick plan of the Capitol? It hurt me to think maybe every single slip in that glass ball had Paris de Claire written on it. It was still a mystery to me how the Capitol could televise every moment in an arena hundreds of acres large. Was our riot plans all in vain? Did the Capitol record all our conversations? That means Marly could be next year's victim of reaping. It was such a stupid idea, planning a riot. What good would we have got? No one can beat the Capitol. No one can teach them right from wrong. I pulled out my lucky stone.

"How could you do this to me?!?! You're supposed to be lucky!!!" I yelled aloud. "You let me down twice! First with the reaping and then with Jackson! If you're so lucky, bring me home! Bring me home RIGHT NOW!!!" I screamed. The tears flowed at full speed. I was going to drive myself mad with anticipation. Now I was yelling at inanimate objects hoping it would make the slightest difference. My lucky stone answered me with a malicious smile. For the rest of the evening, every footstep in the hallway haunted me with the fear it might be Jackson. What if he forever blamed his slavery on me for not showing up? It would be a blame I was not strong enough to carry. But then if he blamed me I would deserve to be a tribute. If he didn't, I deserve to be the victor.

* * *

"OUCH!!!"

"Sorry dearie, just one more!" Soothed Turshia. I couldn't understand what was so horribly disgusting about bodily hair that it was necessary to strip every single strand from my-

"GAH!!!"

"All done!"

Phew! Glad that's over. I didn't think that was really worth all of that pain. Sooo lucky my stylist isn't a lunatic like my makeup artist. He didn't seem to be the one to die my skin funny colours or give me a ridiculous wig. Judging by the way _he_ dressed, anyway. I felt guilty that I forgot to ask his name. After all, the outfit I get for the parade can make or break my reputation as a tribute. Now I can finally relax and sort some stuff out in my head while Turshia works on my hair. The parade is in a half hour, tomorrow morning is training, the evening is interviews and the next day..........ulp............arena. So, I guess there's not much to the parade, just smiling and waving. For the training I already decided to focus on the other's strengths and weaknesses. As for myself I should probably try something new. My knowledge of herbs and medicines is good enough to know what's poisonous. There are always poisonous things in the hunger games. Always. I could set snares, which satisfies my need for hunting. Anything you can't catch I could find. As far as weapons.....well, I can throw things? Maybe knives? Axes? Definitely stones. But could a stone be enough to kill? If I got a solid hit on the temple, maybe. Or even just a hit to the head with a big rock, from higher up. I could actually just knock them out and let the careers get him or her. That could ease the guilt a bit. Oh, the unwanted bloodlust. You're a kid Paris. You just want to go home to see mum again. So I'll try the throwing knives and axes. That's decided.

"All done!" Turshia hooted. She held out a mirror. I was stunned. As I requested, Turshia did not change the colour of my hair, but instead dyed it to shimmer with the same vibrancy it once had when I was a toddler. My eyes were outlined with black and the slightest tint of green. They had erased the few freckles on my face and, (must have been the bathwater) tanned my skin a little. All the acne had evaporated from my face. I could see where they were going with this. Tanned skin, green eye shadow – I was going to be a tree. Again. I thought the stylist said he was going to do something different this year!

"_This year we're going to stray from previous costumes. No more boring inanimate trees! This year, you two are going to shine! These costumes will show life! Trees are living things! You don't know how long I've wanted to do District 7."_

Turshia gave me a bath robe so I the stylist could come in and give me my costume. He handed it to me sparkling with pride, which was weird because it didn't look all that fancy to me. It had a lot of pieces, that's for sure. Like a brown two-piece bathing suit, with too many bracelets, anklets and rings plus a tiara to go on top. I tried it on only to discover to my distaste it had a ton of padding on the breasts, and exposed my whole middle, legs and shoulders. They were determined to show off as much of me as possible. It's funny that they never actually _asked_ me what _I_ was comfortable wearing, seeing that I'm the one wearing it. I think I was supposed to be like, "tree queen" or something.....which means Marcus is tree king.......yuck. I hoped this parade could just be over.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen! District 6!"

"One last thing." He said, before spraying me and Marcus top to bottom with water. My skin started crawling for no particular reason. It felt like a thousand ants skittering about under my costume. My district partner and I both got panicky, unsure if this was supposed to be part of the costume.

"It feels a little funny at first, but that means its working. Quit dancing around like that! Just stand still and wave!"

"District 7!!!"

I was blasted with the spotlight, so bright it took everything I had not to squint and hide my eyes. I barely forced a smile. Could you believe there's actually something scarier than being reaped for the hunger games? Try being on national television in a bathing suit. Now I couldn't tell if this tickling sensation was the costume or me being petrified. I grabbed Marcus' hand so I wouldn't fall off the float. He didn't protest because he seemed to need stabilization as well. At least Mr. Tree King here had a shirt. I waved my gloved hand from left to right, left to ri--. Hold on......glove? Wasn't I wearing bracelets? But sure enough, my hands were wrapped in lacy gloves, made of what felt like tree fibres. I could feel something brushing my legs......a skirt? What? So now I had a miniskirt made of leaves? I watched it for a second. The skirt was somehow moving – getting longer. The crowd was going nuts! I saw myself on the big screen and finally understood. I was growing! Like a tree. I should have known. He kept complaining about all the previous boring "inanimate" costumes. I squeezed Marcus' hand a little tighter as all eyes turned on us and, once again, he didn't resist. This was really......cool. A vine sprouted out of the neckline, wrapped itself around my neck before plunging and curling around my navel. Blossoms were popping out of the anklets and gloves. This gave me an idea. One that would drive the crowd crazy. I plucked a couple flower petals and blew them into the audience. People were scrambling to catch one of Paris' blossoms. Paris! Paris! We love you! We're going to sponsor you! (Well, I'm hoping this is what they were saying. I couldn't actually hear any words over the noise.) Maybe I should just savour this. Maybe I shouldn't let the upcoming games rain on my parade. Ha-ha.....rain.......parade. Sigh. All this adoration. It just doesn't make any sense. These people are screaming and blowing kisses and loving me. Don't they know how much danger I'm in? If they really loved me they'd be crying. Or maybe this is all mockery. Inside they're laughing. They just can't wait to see me die. There all big sadistic jerks. They're smiling because they're already daydreaming about Jelena reorganizing my face with her fists. I can't take this anymore. At least we're almost inside the building. Jerks. Jerks jerks jerks. When I win and come out and get interviewed by that Capitol guy I'll spit on his face and march all the way home. Like the last toe on Lulu's strange, strange toes.

* * *

"You better go lie down." Said Chawny, shaking her head. In an attempt to put on some pounds tonight, I actually just gave myself a killer stomach-ache. The blueberry mousse was sickeningly sweet. And I thought I could finish it after years of homemade rabbit stew and anything else edible we could find in the forest. I really should start making an effort to learn my limits. _Uuuuuhhhhhnnnnn._ After barely making it to my hotel room I went splat on the perfectly decorated bed, crushing the note someone left on its surface. It felt like someone thought it would be fun to play football with my entire digestive system! And what's worse is that that someone is ME!!! Waaaaaiiiiiit a minute......oh no.........the note I'm sitting on is probably from Jackson. Do I dare read it? What if he accuses me of his imprisonment? But.....how could I go on not knowing what he said? Slowly, I unravel the note, trying not to throw up my guts.

_Paris, I know what I did that day is my doing, and my doing alone. I didn't wait. You don't deserve to be here._

He forgave me? That means I deserve to win! It means I will win! It means....................I will win and I will go home and I will never see him again. .

"AAHH!!!! Jackson! Make noise when you move! You scared me!" I yelped. And already my nose is doing that burning thing it always does before I start crying, which makes me so incredibly mad because if I can't control my emotions I'll die in the A-R-E-N-A. (I won't say the a-word anymore because it's a nasty word and it scares me.)"Marly got hit and she was bleeding and I had to help her get washed up and she was hysterical and all shocked and needed huff, huff, and needed and OH JACKSON WHAT AM I GOING TO DO?!?!?" I couldn't even finish explaining because I was out of breath and sobbing like a big baby. Twenty big breaths later I told myself out loud. "Sorry. No more crying. I think I'm empty. You just surprised me Jackson. I'm okay now." For the first time in a week, I think I was. Jackson was okay, and so I was. Jackson is okay, so I am. Jackson will be okay, so I will be okay. It's decided. "Uuuhhh. What am I gonna do Jackson?" I said in a moany, lifeless voice. "Everyone is like, 18 years old and have big muscles." He picked up the note and on the back of it, scribbled.

_They're all just little sadistic bunny rabbits. Set a snare and let them die on their own. No problem!_

"But-"

Jackson punched me in the shoulder in a playful way, like he always did. He left me to sort out my feelings. Suddenly, my life isn't a big sob story anymore. It isn't such a big Romeo and Juliet "everything is perfect and then everybody dies for no reason" kind of story. My story becomes another adventure in the Life and Times of Paris de Claire when Jackson punches me in the shoulder.


	4. Friends

**Just in case you're confused about name pronunciation, Aida = EYE-duh. Jelena = yel-E-na. Ciro = SEE-ro. Xander = ZAN-der. Bebe = BAY-bay. (I don't know how that silly accent thing on the e's.)**

Training day. I pulled on some khaki pants and a comfortable t-shirt. How should I do my hair? Mum used to do it up in French braids when I asked her to. I couldn't do by myself, so I settled for a ponytail. My reputation as a tribute would be based partially on how I dressed. Chawny told us to lay low and be underestimated, but I didn't think that was the right way to go about it. It makes sense, to present myself as a weakling and not a bother, and then tear them apart in the A-R-E-N-A. It's just that I hate being underestimated. I used to hate being last pick for soccer teams. I hate being ignored. I want their respect. And if I pretend to be weak I have less of a chance to find an alliance. But then if I make an alliance at training this morning I'll be setting myself up for heartbreak. It's too bad. I'm making an alliance. This is the hunger games. I can't do it alone. These games _are_ heartbreak. I'll just have to make that sacrifice.

The room was circular with about 12 different stations. The man told us we had a total of 2 hours to practice any of the skills we wanted. People scattered. I was at a loss at where to start. Hand to hand combat? I should definitely check that out. Herbs and medicines? No need. Knot tying and snares? Again, no need. Target practice? They had axes, knives, archery, and spears at that station. I'll start there.

Already at that station were Dandra, Lulu and Aida. Dandra aimed the bow and demonstrated she was clearly capable of killing with it. Not good. Bows are long range. I won't necessarily escape her if I scramble up a tree. Lulu was vigorously scratching a piece of paper with one of the throwing knives while singing softly a song about mutilation. I bet she made that song up herself. I made a point of positioning myself so Aida and Dandra were between me and Lulu. Better safe than sorry. I scooped up a knife, held it behind my head and hurled it at the target...........well, on the bright side; the _handle_ of the knife hit the centre of the target. How were you supposed to throw a knife anyway? It's an awkward shape. Three tries later I switched to axes. Getting weapons to spin properly is not as easy as it looks. Now I was feeling embarrassed, hoping no one was watching me fail to get these stupid tools to stick to the freaking bulls eye. Jelena, who was now standing next to Dandra, whispered something in her ear. She nodded in approval. Jelena picked up a knife, examined it, then threw it at the haystack with a painting of a man on the front. It buried deep into his shoulder. Thank you! She held the knife by the blade. Maybe I should try that. I try. I hit the bulls eye. It stays. It took everything I had not to dance or just smile like an idiot.

"You've got a good arm." Aida's voice startled me.

"Well, I guess I've had a lot of practice." I said sheepishly, caught off guard by the compliment.

"I find the faster you spin it, the more likely you get a good solid stick." She explained. Why was she giving me advice? Doesn't she know we're not both going to survive? But...maybe she's just like me. Maybe she's looking for reassurance that perhaps a little _less_ than 23 people are out to kill her. That's the reassurance I'm seeking anyway. Was she looking for alliance?

Aida was right. Spin = success, especially with axes. We talked for a while, and I uncovered this; she has a boyfriend whom she plans to marry, (I guess she likes planning ahead, seeing that she's only eighteen and thinking about marriage.) she's an orphan, she hunts with snares and gathers for food. I told her my mum was a midwife and a doctor. I also said I hunted with snares to. She already knew my weapon of choice. Aida went to check out fencing and left me with now only Jelena. I discovered that throwing knives and hitting the target so dead centre Jelena frowns is very stress relieving. Seeing that I had tonnes of stress needing to be relieved, I kept practicing. Jelena's knife throwing was hard, fast and deadly, however my accuracy would probably outdo her power in the arena. This obviously displeased her.

"You won't last 10 minutes in the arena, red head." She said coldly, her face turning purpleish. Trying to make me scared. Checking to see if I was soft. Chawny's words echoed in my head;

_If your opponent gives you crap you send it right back to show you're not afraid._

I wasn't always good at on the spot thinking. What should I say? What should I say? What should I say?

"If I didn't know better I'd say you're afraid of me." I challenged. She was ready to stab me 36 times in the chest if I moved. Perhaps that was not the best thing to say.

"You wanna bet you little-"

"It's too late. The Capitol already bet our lives for us." Ha! I was so right. I mean, crap! I was soooo right. Its true isn't it? That's basically what the hunger games are. 24 children being forced to bet their lives on fortune and fame. Except to me the greatest prize is just getting to finally go home. I took this opportunity to leave the fuming Jelena and visit the hand to hand combat station. Already there were Treck, Ciro, Parker and Bebe. There was now an hour left of training. A training instructor fitted me with some gloves and taught me some moves. After a half hour I could generally block, throw punches and kick with accuracy. The instructor went to teach these techniques to the District 9 girl, so I went and pummelled a punching bag for a while. That's when Ciro came to talk to me.

"You new to this? You sure learn fast."

"Um...kind of. My dad showed me some basic defence, but only when mum was away cause she didn't want me to get hurt. If only he knew what I was doing now."

"Your dad....is he-?"

"Yes." I sighed. "Three years."

"I'm really sorry..."

"Don't be." I hadn't looked up at him yet, still thoroughly beating the hanging bag.

"Don't talk to Treck." Ciro now spoke in a hushed voice. "He's kind of pissed that Bebe pinned him."

I turned to face Ciro and got a much better look at his hazel eyes and chocolate coloured hair with sun streaks. It reached to about his ears.

"He's so full of himself, Treck. I still can't believe he chose to come here."

"Yeah, and he doesn't note the fact that Bebe's the karate queen. He assumes he can beat everyone with bare hands." He paused for a moment. "What did you think of Parker?"

"A one man team. He's definitely dangerous, but he's afraid of the Careers."

Ciro nodded in approval. Talking to him was so easy. I kind of liked this guy. We shared a lot of opinions. I hadn't really realized how much I was talking with him. How much I was bonding with the enemy. I went back to punching the bag.

"The Careers look strong." I said more solemnly. "One brawny, one vicious, one sly and one....well, Treck. I've also seen Anya and Dez talking to them. Probably interested in alliance."

"Speaking of alliance..." Ciro hesitated and looked at me. I knew we were thinking the same thing. But, for him to ask me? Wow! I must seem pretty capable for him to suggest alliance to me of all people. I guess he too had his doubts about his performance in the arena, and was looking for some help.

"Let's call it a truce for when the games begin. And...there's someone else we should talk to." I thought of Aida. Mostly, I pitied her. Of all people, she had the most reason _not _to be in the hunger games. But part of me was disgusted that she would do something like that to herself at freaking _18_.

Ciro and I talked a long time, until the bell rang to signal individual training performance. From what I heard, Ciro had a little sister who was my age. He had the usual life of a citizen from a district. Hungry and poor and just making enough to get along. He was bigger than me; 16. This worried me because I may not be able to defend myself if he decided to turn on me. But something told me that was an empty fear. Something about him reminded me of Jackson. Some words he said, with real meaning.

"_I will go into the arena and I will choose to live at the price of 23 or will choose to die for the benefit of one. Either way, it's my choice, not theirs."_

I wish I could have longer lasting friendships with these newfound friends.


	5. Marcus

My whole body was trembling. Every once in a while my hand crept up to my neck and I felt it pounding. Training with Chawny was no good. I just could not think up the right kind of answers within 10 seconds of hearing the question. The only thing scarier than being reaped for the hunger games is parading with too much skin showing. The only thing scarier than parading with too much skin showing is speaking live in front of all of Panem. I watched the districts go by, one, two, three, four, five, and six all the while anticipating my turn. Lulu's interview had been especially fun to watch for the audience. She acted like a three year old who was soon to be going to the candy store. As I waited in horror of my interview, I rapidly tried to make decisions on what to talk about if any particular questions came up. If he asked about family I'd talk about Mum, as a doctor. If he asked about strategy I'd say I would be cunning. If he....well, what else could he ask about? Crap! It's almost my turn! The district 6 boy is being asked his third and final question. My goal for now is just to get up there and answer the questions without losing it. Oh my god, his bell just went off. I gingerly stood up and made my way to the torture chair, trying to "glide" and throw my shoulders back. I just hoped my knees weren't knocking together. Practicing for half an hour on 3 inch heels definitely paid off. I sat on the pale green armchair, careful not to lean back and crush the artificial tree branches attached to the back of my dress. They fanned out like wings, and brutally embarrassed me when they caught on the door on my way in the room. After smoothing my brown, bark printed dress over my knees I met eyes with the disgusting interviewer, whose blood red hair and makeup did not improve the situation I was in.

"Well, nice to meet you Paris de Clair. My, that's a stunning dress you have there. What do you think of the costumes you've seen so far? "

That was NOT on the list of preparation questions.

"I...I've been thrilled by the costumes I've worn. They remind me of home... which is really what these costumes should be doing. The Capitol stylists work magic! Just look at this! It changes seasons!"

I thanked my lucky stars for the great timing. The synthetic summer leaves on my branches transformed into vibrant fall colours, drawing many ooos and ahhhs out of the audience. However one snicker from Jelena reminded me I was laying it on a little thick. I just glared back at her.

"...Paris?"

"Uh, sorry my mind was somewhere else. Could you repeat that?"

"What has your opinion been on the food of the Capitol?"

"Well, I can only say it's one hundred times better the last day, once you've adjusted to its richness. I learned the hard way not to finish blueberry mousse if you're already full." Impulsively, I put a hand on my stomach and made a silly face. Eruption of laughter. Nice move Paris. One more to go.

"So Paris, if you are so fortunate as to win these games, who do you have to thank?"

"Well, it will somewhat depend on how these games unravel, but I will unconditionally have to thank the forest I grew up in, for preparing me all my life for these next two weeks." Good answer. Phew! I'm all done since the bell just rang.

"Thank you Paris! Let's give it up for Ms. De Claire!" A decent applause followed. I waved and glided much more confidently now back to my chair. Marcus, in a stunning tuxedo with the same leafy accents, took his place on the scary green armchair. The interviewer asked the same old questions, about food and family and the games. But it was the last question that ended up catching both me and Marcus completely off guard.

"So Marcus, I speak for the Capitol when I say we've seen some tension between you and your district partner. Do you have any last words on that?"

All of a sudden I'm really worried my face is turning the same shade as my hair.

"Yeah...we haven't really spoken since we both got chosen. But, I just can't let her, or me, lose before I give her a proper apology. I'm sorry Paris. You know, for pushing you."

Collectively, all heads turned to me and I was at a loss as to what my expression should be. I just stared at my right elbow.

"Does Paris forgive Marcus?" The interviewer asked. Come on Paris. One last question.

"Yes." I spoke softly. My eyes met with him and we shared an understanding expression. Because I know what he means. You cannot watch someone die knowing you still owe them something. In his case it was an apology. In my case it was forgiveness.

.....................................................................................................................................................................

I was delighted to discover over the past couple days I'd successfully gained a dozen pounds. It was a simple formula. I stuffed myself at meals and then, whenever I could, I'd drug up on sleeping pills from the bathroom cabinet and nap so the food went straight to the fat reserves. It worked beautifully. But that still didn't change the fact that I was going to the A-R-E-N-A tomorrow. It was 9:30 and I was not exactly looking forward to going to bed because if I went to bed and ended this day the next would only bring on the next one. But I needed sleep. I needed to be strong. I swallowed a couple sleeping pills dry because I knew they were my only chance at gaining any sleep at all. The only thing that comforted me was the knowledge that Marcus and I were made up. We even said goodnight to each other. We even said goodbye the next day as we stepped into the individual capsules that would carry us to the greatest challenge of our lives. The blood bath.

**DUN DUN DUN! Now be nice and hit the review button to tell me what you think so far. Things will become even more complicated now that the games have started! **


	6. Sanctuary

Twenty three. An interesting number. Its prime, no factors except itself and one. If you think about it though, it's not a very high number. But when twenty three becomes the number of children who will never see their parents again, when it becomes the number of potential killers I'm imprisoned with, when it becomes the number of kids who will never celebrate their 19th birthday, twenty three is a number high enough to break your heart. Standing on my silver plate, looking at the breathtakingly high number of tributes, my heart broke again.

Sixty. A pretty high number. I don't have the time or care to figure out its factors. And when sixty becomes the number of seconds before the gong that is the beginning of the end, sixty is not a very high number. Especially when you spend the first third of your 60 seconds ranting on about numbers when you should be surveying the arena. I was standing on what looked like a mountain with the top cut off leaving a circle for us tributes to stand. In the centre, as traditionally, was a cornucopia overflowing with life preserving supplies. The biggest, fakest sun beat down directly overhead. The whole mountain and surrounding valley was covered in trees. My element. I now understood the thick soled hiking shoes we were dressed in. The road down was a bumpy one. I knew the very ground beneath me was loaded with mines...mines. I recalled the one year a girl dropped her token on one and blew herself to bits, and my brain hatched a sick idea. What a dishonourable way to kill someone. Before the games even began. But why not? These games have no rules. And in a game with no rules the only way to win is to fight dirty. I fidgeted with my lucky stone while figuring out who was the furthest away from me, Marcus, Aida and Ciro. Unfortunately, all the careers were within at most two places of my friends and I. My gaze finally met the district 3 boy. It's now or never. Now or never...

I threw my token. Over the cornucopia, over the astonished faces of my opponents, and the district 3 boy didn't even figure out what I was trying to do before the rock hit the ground in front of him and set off a deafening explosion. The tributes on either side of him, who were purposefully spread out enough to be out of range of the land mines, were still struck by the shockwave and flailed their arms frantically, doing all they could not to fall off their own plates. Every other tribute was hit by the scorching heat that followed my victim's death, including myself. And among all this commotion, nobody heard the gong. Nobody but me.

While everyone else stood there hesitating, unsure if the games had started yet, I reached the first item. A frying pan. I scooped it up and almost dropped it when it weighed half of what I expected it to. I reached the pyramid of survival gear and grabbed a big backpack with _climbing equip._ written on the front. Again, it weighed much less than I expected this time because it was not completely full. Good. Room for my newly acquired frying pan. After picking up a bag of apples someone finally reached me. Without even checking who it was I swung the frying pan and slammed her in the face, knocking her out cold. Thank goodness it wasn't Aida. It was Anya, the district 3 girl, who was now as good as dead since she was down in the middle of the bloodbath. I'd already spent far too much time here so I turned and sprinted for an exit. A random short guy was in my way so instead of dodging around him like a civilised person I bulldozed right through him. What can I say? I _had_ to get out of there. Had to. Finally, I reached the protection of the foliage with more supplies than I ever hoped to scavenge. I stole one last look around the shoulder and immediately wished I hadn't. There was Marcus, eyes wide with fear, completely unarmed staring at some threat unknown to me. Then the knife. Soaring through the air it buried itself into his stomach. It killed him. KILLED HIM. And even though I didn't see the thrower I know it was Jelena. And I know she is going to be my...second kill. I lost my footing and crashed into a tree. That was going to leave a bruise. But I have no time at the moment to sort out my emotions. I just have to get out of there. Scrambling down the rocky path, I wonder how Ciro and Aida made out. Just got to keep running. Keep running. My footing was placed as carefully as I could without losing speed. The dirt and rocks provided somewhat of a staircase making it somewhat easier to climb down. The trees provided a veil of protection from my enemies. Now that I'm a little further from the blood bath I can think a little straighter.

So Marcus was dead. Gone from the world forever. But for some reason I wasn't exactly sure if I was going to miss him. I feel purely disappointed. Not even sad. Just disappointed. Disappointed I will never get to know that nice boy any better. I'll think back to him and see only his face. Nothing else. This makes me want to cry. If only I'd known I'd have spent this last week soaking up him and everything about him. But it's too late. He's dead.

...

It's been roughly a half hour since the gong, and I'm halfway down the mountain. It's huge! I wonder if I should stop and stay, just in case I need to go back to the cornucopia and get more supplies. Just the thought of that makes my stomach lurch, so I keep going. I am now _forcing _myself to move slowly, because if I rush and misplace my footing I could twist an ankle which is the last thing I need at this point. Some idiot has probably done that already. It's strange. I actually want to cry for Marcus but I can't. I can't cry over a friendship I never made and therefore never lost. But it's probably for the better because the Capitol doesn't sponsor cry-babies. I can finally see what's in the backpack. A couple ropes, a grappling hook, a helmet, a pair of binoculars and a special stretchy rope. All the equipment was coloured in useful camouflaging shades. I took the helmet out and put it on for some safety against a surprise attack. With enough room now I stick the frying pan and the apples into the empty space. There's nine apples in the bag – one per meal for three days. That gives me enough time to find another food source. I was savouring every moment of not being hungry because I knew that will certainly not last in the hunger games. My lips are getting dry which will only get worse these next few hours. I have to find water before any real thirst starts. After seeing last year's desert arena, no one needs to teach me that dehydration can turn you mad. Naturally, I'll have the most luck finding water if I keep hiking in a generally downwards direction.

A couple minutes after I fled the blood bath, the cannon sounded nine times. Nine dead. One of them being Marcus, two of them being district 3. Fifteen alive. I hope so desperately that 2 of those 15 are Ciro and Aida. My thirst was becoming a big discomfort and I panicked because I was losing energy. I needed to find water quick or I may not reach the bottom of the mountain where it most likely lies. But will there be a mountain stream...? There has to be. They wouldn't put the water so far away no one could reach it in time. The answer hits me like a slap in the face. Climb a tree!

I look around a bit until I find a pine with some low branches. Scaling the tree is even tougher than usual because I'm extremely thirsty and I have the weight of the pack which thankfully isn't that much because the Capitol supplies are designed to be light. I eventually reach the top with limited scratches. I'm happy that the thick branches hide me from the careers but annoyed they blocked my own vision. I pull out the binoculars from my pack. They work pretty well. I know they will be handy in the long run, despite the small weight. The sight I see makes me almost fall out of the tree. I see the top of the mountain, all foliage cleared away to make the platform for the tributes, completely coated in a layer of blood that goes all the way from the cornucopia to the trees. Can you imagine the blood of nine people covering the area of an entire soccer field? That's what I see. That's what the Capitol ignores. They must have stomachs of steel to watch this every year, over and over.

After some gazing over the trees I'm in a panic because there is no water in sight. I ask Chawny for a water bottle in a small voice doubting she'll send me any. I have an awful headache and my vision is turning blurry when I catch a sparkle to my right. It could mean three things. 1. Water 2. A tribute 3. A mirage. I hope its option 1. Worst comes to worst, it's the Careers prowling around for someone to kill. Someone weak and dehydrated. I decide to take a bite of one of my precious apples, and suck the exposed inside of its juices. This calms my headache and allows me to think strait.

Since I have the time, I should make a better plan of action. Obviously my top priority is to find a reliable source of water, so I might as well risk it and search the flash I saw in the east. (To orient myself, the cornucopia is always north.) If it was just a mirage then I'll keep looking for water. Once and...if I find water I should search for food sources and make a shelter. In fact, shelter is more important than food because 1. being unprotected from wind and weather makes you cold and practically sucks the food from your body 2. I have some food already and 3. with half as much food you need twice as much sleep. I need I need I need! Will I be able to provide this all for myself?

It takes at least 5 minutes for me to separate myself from the safety of the tree, but I manage to hit the ground again, filled with uncertainty. My helmet is still on, and my grappling hook is at the ready, since it's the best weapon I have. I shudder at the thought of actually having to use it, which surprises me because I've already killed one and a half people. As I travel I can't help but constantly look over my shoulder and jump at the wind in the trees. I'd better get used to it since this is my home for the next few weeks. What little relief that bite of apple gave me is long gone, so I have to rest every 40 paces. I plunk myself down at the base of a pine tree and stare into the empty, cloudless skies. The artificial sun shines in the south lower in the sky indicating about 4:00 arena time, since the sun shone directly overhead when the games began. All I want to do is rest, which would be possible if this were simply a wilderness survival game. But the hunger games have a whole other aspect of other tributes. You can't just settle and rest wherever because it increases your chance of being found by an armed opponent, especially as I'm closing in on the place where I first saw the sparkle. I try to get up once but oh! It's so much work. So I sit back down. The arena is enormous. What are the chances of someone actually finding me? Ah...the sound of the river is so soothing. Running water really is the best medicine for stress relief, and, at the moment I have much stress that is in need of relieving. It reminds me of home. How I went to the river every reaping day. To listen to the water and throw rocks at the boulde-

Getting up is too much work so I crawl in the general direction of the sound. I'd hit a gold mine. There is a clearing in the trees, and an enormous cliff face. At the top, a split in the rocks gushed with crystal clear water, which makes gorgeous white splashes as it bounces off of lower ledges. The aesthetics of course are all for the sake of the audience, not the tributes who have donated their lives towards their entertainment. But somehow instead of dunking my face in the river I manage to think it through first. If the water is poisonous, boiling it is the best option, and, how convenient. I have a pan to boil it in. But starting a fire would release a column of smoke which is much like setting off a firework saying IM OVER HERE. That leaves me to question; do I risk taking a drink or put it off until later? I take another bite of apple.

I stare at the enormous waterfall stuck in my own stalemate. What to do? The water is so taunting, splashing around like that. Hello? What's this dark spot mean? I notice the waterfall is interrupted at about halfway down, so it'll take a tree to reach it. Climbing a tree is work. Why do I care?...because now I'm curious, that's why. There's something behind those rocks. I can feel it.

It takes another half hour to get up the tree, but I'm here now. And better yet, I was correct. Behind this waterfall is a big opening, about the size of a sofa. Just enough to fit one person. Perfect. I gingerly slide off the thin branches and into the gap, safe and sound at last. Well, almost. I realize that by passing through the waterfall I'm soaked and will have to live with that through the predictably freezing night tonight. Great. No blanket. I am now ready to continue debating whether plunging into that cool, clear water with an open mouth is as intelligent as grabbing the blade of a knife. I pull the frying pan out to give it a proper inspection.

Now that I look closer, I can see the bottom of it has a blue and gold criss-cross pattern. And on the handle there is a rather peculiar on/off switch. I hit it. Nothing happens. I inspect it all over again with my fingers. Handle, bottom, and the inside. My fingers collide with the smooth black inside and instantly rebound at the searing heat. Idiot! I shove my fingers in the waterfall to cool it down. So obvious! Of course the on switch was to heat it! And the bottom is a solar panel for charge. Ouch! I try not to make a face, because apparently it pleases the audience to see players resist pain. At least I have a heating source so I can finally have water. I fill up the pan and watch it boil as I wait, hand still in the waterfall. Ohhh...I have to wait 5 minutes for the water. But somehow I manage, and the warm water feels heavenly as it slides down my throat. I finish the pan and immediately fill it again. I drink until my thirst is so wonderfully quenched. Only then do I realize how hungry I am. I finish the apple I took two bites of. Even the core, but not the seeds. I'm still hungry, but generally comfortable. And for the first time, safe. The water acts like a one way window, letting me see out but shielding me from other's view. I know none of the careers could climb that tree without breaking the branches. I guess being naturally thin is a blessing and a curse. The audience prefers thin people and the branches do too, but on the other hand fat reserves insulate body heat and are needed to survive in these games.

As the day closed, I stepped back out onto the tree branches to see who died today. The anthem played and the whole sky lit up with Anya's face. Dead. Following her were the district 3 boy, the little 12 year old girl from 4 (I think her name was Laili.), the girl from 5 the boy from 6...Marcus...the girl from 8, the girl from 11 and – I held my breath – the boy from 12. The anthem finished and the sky went black. Ciro and Aida were alive. Why had I ever doubted they would be? They're smart. I have to sleep. Lots of work to do tomorrow. I lay my head on the backpack and closed my eyes.

District 3 was dead all on my behalf. Back home, two families cried for their children and pined for my death. I was a murderer and I will carry that with me for the rest of my life. My hands will be forever stained with the blood of district 3.


	7. Early Easter

I had the hardest time deciding what to do today.

Since I have accomplished food, water and shelter I had originally planned to sleep all day, save my energy for when I need it, but something is holding me back. The gamemakers. They will most certainly not approve of letting me rest peacefully for an entire day. One way or another they will lure me out. They could turn off the waterfall, collapse the Cliffside cave, or, well, they are pretty creative at this kind of thing. Come to think of it, the gamemakers have us all completely under their thumbs. I don't like that. Now who controls the gamemakers?...The Capitol?...No. The audience. The action of the gamemakers is completely based on the pleasure of the audience. And who controls the audience – I do. We do. It's all a big triangle of influence. And if I wish to keep my sanctuary under the waterfall, I have to keep the audience entertained. But I already owe district three so much more than an apology, so I'd rather not spend the day plunging myself deeper into debt with killings. I think as long as I'm doing something, anything at all, the gamemakers will lie off a little. After a less than satisfying night on cold hard stone I'm in no position to be on my feet all day. And with half as much sleep I need twice as much food. So that's what I'll do today. I'll stock up on food.

After packing up everything I clamber down the tree and plant my feet on solid ground. I have a path memorized up that tree now. I felt so sure about my plans, but now I have no idea where to look for food. The gamemakers don't make it easy to get enough to eat. What now? The cornucopia? No way – Careers. Set snares? Yeah, I'll set some snares, but in the meantime I should gather. Not a lot of stuff grows on a mountain's side, so I'd best take a day trip to the valley. I'll hike beside the river so I can have access to water.

The hike feels longer than it should because my sore body groans with every movement. The backpack provided some relief for my head and shoulders but I can't say the same for my lower back. I should be grateful for the shape I'm in though, because many of my opponents are in far worse condition. It's only been what, 10 minutes since the day started and already the artificial sun beats down. I roll up my pant legs.

The ground is rough and climbing down it takes a toll on my body. I'm huffing and slowing until I give in and boil up some water in the frying pan. Take a bite of an apple. I know it's only been a day or so, but I'm getting tired of eating nothing but apples. I kind of miss that creamy blueberry mousse, and the rice and vegetables in mushroom sauce...oh...I'm dreaming about food. Already? It's been one day! I better get stockpiling some food. Not just to eat, but to ease my mind. Knowing it's there would bring me so much peace.

My confidence builds as I hike onwards. The rocky path is beginning to cease and morph into a leafy forest floor. I spotted two rabbits already meaning there are more out there. One rabbit was drinking directly from the stream and proved that the water was in fact, not poisonous. I decide that next to the river is the best place to set snares, so I leave a couple on the way. Now that the rocks have become soil, my big clonking hiking footwear is leaving tracks, so I take it off and walk in the stream to conceal my footprints. It feels fantastic. The cool water caresses my skin and the mud feels heavenly between my toes. I take a moment to just be here, splashing in the water, carefree. Not in the arena but at home, where even a growling stomach can be ignored when the environment is familiar and safe. I toss water over my clothes and hair to keep cool. I'm in such a dream that I forget the mission at hand and sit on the bank to clean up. First I rub the grime out of my hands and feet, and work on the nails, which have lost some the nail polish they had when the games first started. Then I rinse out the dirt on the knees of the pants, finger comb my hair and voila! Fresh as a daisy...almost. It felt so good I realized that even something as simple as hygiene is a good medicine for the spirit in a situation like this. But back to business. Food. An apple per meal has already proved to be not nearly enough.

I keep walking and figure I'm about 45 minutes away from the Cliffside cave. All around me is trees, trees, and more trees. I think about my family now, what a wreck it's become. Jackson doomed to serving the Capitol, not that he wasn't doing that before, just more indirectly. And poor Marly must be drowning in her own emotions right now. I have to be strong for her. I have to do my absolute best, just like she asked me to. And me, well, I'm in the easiest position ironically. If I die, then bang. I'm dead. Quick and painless. But for my friends the pain will never end. There's a flash at my feet and I freeze when I catch sight of a single fish fluttering away from my toes. The perfect size for my frying pan...

Weaving a net takes time, and it turns out a little sloppy, but it was...how I shall say it...fun. It's nice to have something to focus on, to pass the time. All the while I was keeping an eagle eye on that fish, who was trying to swim upstream but wasn't making it very far. Gingerly, I place my net on the riverbed, holding on to the ropes, and standing still as a statue. A couple times the fish wandered close but I am determined not to move until the perfect moment. A little closer and...

I yank up on the ropes and trap my prey in a tangle. It breaks free but meets hard ground and I'm on it with the grappling hook poking its eyes out. Yeah, I know, nice. But am I going to be humane and give my only dinner a chance to escape? I clean it up a little and store the raw fish in my sack for later. I'm so hungry by now I give in and finish another apple. I'm down to 5 apples, a fish the size of my hand and possibly a rabbit. Enough for today, but not for tomorrow. A good start though.

Through my travels this afternoon, I stumble upon some mint plants, which I plucked clean, a meagre raspberry bush which I ate all the fruit off because it didn't have much on it anyway. And get this! I even made a little fish hook out of one particularly long thorn on a raspberry branch. Not sure if it'll work but it made my proud all the same. A chestnut tree filled my pack with a good meal for tomorrow. I was thinking about starting to head back when I spotted a nest in a tree. Eggs. Those would make a nice breakfast tomorrow...

I scaled the tree real easily. It was almost effortless, the branches made a kind of ladder, and they were thick and sturdy. How lucky to find such perfect thing to use to look out! I should remember where it is. I'm almost at the top when a cannon fires.

It scares me so much I almost fell over. Someone just died! In an instant my mind is racing. Who? Where? How? About a soccer field away from my tree, a hovercraft is lifting someone's bloody corpse. The only conclusion I can come to is that the Careers have made their first kill as a pack. And now the killers could be headed my way. I was so focused on my food expedition I forgot there are other players in this game. I finally get to that nest and discover it's some kind of joke. Well, very funny Gamemakers. The eggs are all decorated in beautiful neon colours. Easter eggs. I pick one up and it's hollow. They all are. I crush the empty pink shell in frustration and start to scamper down. But a swift wind catches the branch I'm on and its swinging up and up and up until I crash into the trunk of the tree. Ouch! My back is throbbing and I try to contemplate what just happened. So wind had swept the branch up? No. It's a calm day. Something smacks me in the side and my gut twists as I find myself free falling smashing into branches as I try to gain purchase on something. I'm screaming now and I would be a big splat on the ground if I hadn't caught myself on a tree limb by the armpits. Still making a racket, I inhale and exhale, my whole body aching, head swirling, dazed in shock at what was happening. It's not windy. _The tree itself was trying to shake me off._ I see it now; up above the tree is moving like big angry arms. SO OBVIOUS. The tree was a booby trap, and I fell for it. I'm smoked in the head by another branch causing me to drop and hang by my fingers, but my burned fingers refuse to grasp hold and again I'm falling like a stone. And then as if by magic, I land like a cat on my feet, safe on solid ground. I sprint away from the killer tree and out of range. It realizes it cannot reach me anymore and resumes a rest position. Glad that's over. A trick by the Gamemakers most definitely. Damage? Bumps and bruises, and some seriously messed up fingers, but other than that, fine. My brain is still bouncing around in my skull at 90 miles an hour, but if I had not had a helmet, the hit to the head could have been fatal. Only then does it click in to my mind that the Careers are here. Uh oh.

I grab a rock and get to my feet and sure enough, there they are with weapons at hand. The only thing separating us was the tree trap. I almost threw the rock at Jelena's head but then I remembered the district 3 boy at the blood bath...

"It's the red-head! Shoot her Dandra!"

"No duh!"

"Shut up!"

Dandra pulls back her arrow but her feet are knocked out from underneath her by a tree limb. I bolted into the woods before they could figure it out. What did I hit with the rock? A little something we make in April to celebrate on a Sunday. The thing that tried to kill me was now saving my life. Ironic, isn't it. I ran almost the whole way back to the Cliffside cave, except I stopped a few times to retrieve the snare ropes and one unlucky rabbit.

Night fell when I got back to my cave. I passed through the waterfall and into my little space. It was great for me, just enough room to sit up and lie down. But unfortunately I was soaked again and shivering cold. It's a good thing I found the gift in the tree before it got too cold tonight. Chawny had sent me a fleecy blanket, baby pink in colour, with the money from my sponsors. I was absolutely thrilled. Sponsors! I guess the Capitol was impressed by how I warded off the Careers in the same sort of way I defeated the district 3 boy. I wrapped myself in the welcoming blanket and fried up the fish in my pan. It was pretty tasty.

"Now all I need is a lemon to go with it." I joked. I didn't leave any of it behind, except the bones which I kept because I thought they could be useful. My mum and I used to love experimenting with recipes, so I tried brewing up some new kind of tea. I started with water, squeezed in some apple juice and threw in a couple mint leaves and let it boil. I _love _this frying pan! Once the mint leaves had withered away, I let it cool a bit and tasted it.

"It's surprising good. Sweet and minty, with the tang of the apples! You gotta try it!" I'm speaking aloud because I want to keep the audience liking me. I can only imagine in the Capitol; 'Paris de Claire's mint apple tea!'

They've had enough entertainment for today. I can finally sleep in peace.


End file.
